


I trust(ed) you

by camelotsheart



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Betrayal, F/M, M/M, Magic Revealed, POV Arthur, basically the finale but prose
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-14
Updated: 2020-10-14
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:47:02
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,377
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27006052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camelotsheart/pseuds/camelotsheart
Summary: Arthur's life has been a continuous betrayal of trust, so it shouldn't surprise him that Merlin follows the pattern too.
Relationships: Gwen/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin), Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin)
Comments: 9
Kudos: 72
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	I trust(ed) you

**Author's Note:**

> For prompt no.12 - _Broken Trust_.

_I have magic._

In his senses are hands holding tight like an anchor, shaky breaths telling him to look. He doesn't want to. The truth has hurt him many times before; secrets and betrayals, weaving together like a spiderweb coursing through his very limbs.

Morgana has been there before in Merlin's place. A beacon of light and good and righteousness, a voice that spurned him to hold onto his beliefs and damn the consequences. Morgana was his light and she faded, but not before Merlin came to fill what she left behind.

And now Merlin is fading too as he whispers unintelligible words and weaves the fire to do his bidding, forming the crest of Camelot in bright, rippling amber.

The image disappears, and Arthur looks away.

He looks away to the dark forest behind him, exhaling, wishing for the dream to end. But the worst moments of his life are rarely dreams, and when he turns back Merlin is awaiting his sentence, ever faithful.

"Leave me," Arthur says, and it's almost a whisper, a plea. 

For once in his life, being next to Merlin doesn't feel like a comfort anymore.

.

.

.

There is no evil in sorcery, only in the hearts of men. 

Merlin is not evil. He knows this. It doesn't make the lies hurt any less.

.

.

.

"I trusted you," he says and means it to his very bones. The biggest irony of all, perhaps, is that he still trusts this sorcerer who has been lying with every footstep tread over Camelot's flagstones.

Or maybe it's not an irony at all. Nothing about his relationship with Merlin had truly been comprehensible. Was it logical for a prince to trust the ramblings of a peasant about a sword in a stone? Was it logical for him to trust someone so easily after he had been betrayed by the only family member he had left, someone he had so confidently given reign to rule Camelot in his stead?

( _Just take it_ , he uttered in the cold light of a bonfire, giving Merlin the power to challenge a throne sought through all four corners of Albion, because it would not be power that Merlin saw in the age-worn carvings of his mother's sigil. It would be everything else; memory, love, longing. And that was Merlin: everything else. An exception to all rules. Someone who challenged and supported him with every breath. A light that guided him. And now, he realises, a shadow that protected him; his guardian angel)

Yet he trusted, because it was Merlin. Merlin, who looked at him during a night such as this and betrayed himself, condemned his own kin to continued persecution. The more damning thing is that Arthur knows exactly why. The same way he knows he would have gone back to Camelot after Merlin had sacrificed himself to the Dorocha if Leon had not convinced him otherwise. 

(He still has nightmares about it sometimes, where miracles don't occur and Merlin stays the white, dead corpse he was. Back when he didn't have Gwen to comfort him after waking up with Merlin's name on his lips, he would promise himself over and over again to never let anyone die for him.

It doesn't work, because he is a king. And people die for their kings.

He just never wants it to be Merlin.)

"I'm sorry," replies his friend, and the apology sounds wrong. Precisely because there is nothing to apologise for.

He remembers Merlin's face as he said the words that damned himself; bitten lips, unshed tears, a moral struggle layered in years and years of sacrifice, of giving things up not for the sake of destiny -- for how could it have been Merlin's destiny to betray the very thing that he was? No. Merlin chose his destiny. And he chose Arthur.

Arthur wants to impale himself on Mordred's sword a hundred times over for never realising the meaning behind Merlin's every sorrowful look - the one that seemed like it carried the weight of the world on his shoulders, and he might as well have. Being king is nothing compared to being the greatest sorcerer to ever walk the earth.

It isn't only Merlin that has done the betrayal. Arthur betrayed Merlin with ignorance; for never noticing, for never digging deep enough, not caring enough about someone he dares to call a friend. Someone his heart dares to claim as _more_.

There is nothing else he can do but reply, "I'm sorry too."

.

.

.

_There will never be another like you, Arthur._

_I was born to serve you._

_That's not why I do it._

"Merlin," he says, feeling his life steadily seeping with every breath he takes. "Whatever happens..."

Merlin cuts him off like Arthur guessed he would. It's an idea they've acknowledged in silence but not in action. Arthur will die. He can feel it in the sombre winds that blow through mist-stained leaves, the crikets' elegy on the trunk he leans against, in Merlin's ever-growing desperation.

Arthur wonders if Merlin feels the same way he'd felt when Merlin jumped infront of the Dorocha, or when they had been separated by rockfall. 

_I want you to always be you_ , he says, and doesn't voice what else he wants to say. The two rings he can feel beneath his glove is enough. One connects him to Guinevere, to his queen, the person he betrayed law to be with, the person he chose to love with all his heart despite barriers and forces pushing them apart. 

Another is his mother's, the only other thing besides the sigil that he has in her memory. And perhaps it's symbolic, then, that it reminds him of Merlin. One cannot choose the person they are born to, just as one cannot choose their destiny. And just as much as Arthur is Merlin's destiny, Merlin is Arthur's.

_Is it selfish_ , he thinks, as Merlin reads the words he does not speak and smiles a smile that is as sombre as the light of the fire, _to give my heart to two people at once?_

Two people who had betrayed him, broken him with words and actions, who had come back to him again and again despite being pushed away.

He doesn't deserve them, either of them, and the knowledge hurts.

But as he falls asleep to a hand caressing his cheeks, he admits he has always been selfish.

.

.

.

With his last breaths he reminds Merlin of Camelot, of the kingdom they built together, because Merlin needs to know that there are other things to live for after the end. Loss had ruined his father, loss had ruined Mordred, loss can ruin Merlin too.

Once, he believed that Mordred could do no wrong, for how can a boy so loyal and brave and kind ever be turned to the dark? But he had, and it was love that had done it, like a morteaus flower that heals as well as it kills. 

Merlin is not Uther. Merlin is not Mordred. But Merlin has chosen him over other people, too; has chosen Arthur over himself. It's terrifying to think what Merlin could do once Arthur is gone.

But he trusts Merlin. Always has, and hopes _I don't want you to change_ will be enough to guide Merlin as Merlin had guided him all these years.

_Thank you_ are the last words he chooses to say, because _I love you_ will never encompass what they are. _Thank you for loving me and teaching me how to love. Thank you for coming back. Thank you for staying. Thank you for believing in me when I didn't believe in myself. Thank you for being my friend. Thank you for being the brother I never had. Thank you for being my light. Thank you for being my home._

_Thank you for being the part of me I could never let go._

Just like Merlin had stroked his cheeks, he strokes Merlin's head, trying to convey with whatever strength he had left that it will be okay. That his life has been a happy one, and that having his last moments with Merlin by his side is all he has ever hoped for.

_I'm glad you're here, Merlin._

His hands fall. Merlin calls his name. He cannot answer.


End file.
